<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>lost cause by yomigae</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096281">lost cause</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yomigae/pseuds/yomigae'>yomigae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>finders keepers [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Angst, Future Fic, Light Dom/sub, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:48:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yomigae/pseuds/yomigae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the interstices of cognizant moments, Shuusuke has fleeting thoughts about Echizen Ryoma.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Echizen Ryouma/Fuji Shuusuke, Fuji Shuusuke/Irie Kanata</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>finders keepers [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/vwmn/gifts">vwmn</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>1.</p>
<p>
  <span>When Ryoma had come out of the bathroom, making as little sound as possible, the last thing he wanted was for Fuji to turn around and look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji smiles from where he sits on the edge of his bed. The towel is still hanging over his head. “Done?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take my shower, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s the first thing they’ve said to each other since they came back to the hotel, since their match ended half an hour ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma blinks, and Fuji’s gone, the door he’d just come out of locking behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Left in an empty room all by himself, Ryoma sits down on his own bed in a daze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had just lost a game in an international charity cup. It had been an important game. Tezuka Kunimitsu was there, on the other side of the net. Fuji had walked onto the court with his head held high. Ryoma knew he was walking into a game that did not belong to himself the moment he stepped foot onto the court and breathed in the tension. He also knew, almost instinctively, right away, that they were going to lose because today he wasn’t in that mind space with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hurried backstage meeting in the waiting rooms when Tezuka came over to visit the Japan team went by in a blur of adrenaline. For Ryoma, things and people moved in stop motion. Fuji was smiling despite it all, happy to see a friend. They both acknowledged each other’s growth and strength. Fuji has won against Tezuka by now countless times, but their rivalry continues unabated. It’s been a long time. Fuji played the best game he could have possibly played, gave it his all. Every bit of improvement since the last time they played he showed it to Tezuka, and every bit of dedication Tezuka returned back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At some point Tezuka had turned to say something to Ryoma. Ryoma doesn’t know what. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, so he didn’t remember.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated the elephant in the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I messed up. It was my fault. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m the one who didn’t perform well.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>2.</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji Shuusuke comes out of the shower in a loosely tied bathrobe. It’s the same one he’s been wearing all week, the same way he’s been wearing it, and by habit now Ryoma is drawn to the triangle of skin revealed by the wide collar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shocked by himself, Ryoma looks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Still? Even now?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d already paid the price for distraction. Has he not learned?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If it could wash away the guilt, Ryoma would shower again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just apologize.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just tell him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>3.</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen is blinking blindly when Shuusuke decides to come stand in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Echizen,” he says quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen looks up, like he hadn’t noticed him. Shuusuke looks down at him, trying to read into the conflict in his expression. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stare at each other for a moment. Then Shuusuke’s gaze softens, and he gives Echizen an understanding smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine, you know,” he says. He’s been wanting to say it for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen’s eyes widen. Then, instead of reflecting any trace of relief, his eyebrows furrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just a game.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We all do sometimes.” Shuusuke lays a hand on Echizen’s shoulder, only to have him tense up even more. “Are you disappointed with yourself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was careless.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did your best.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t. That’s why...you don’t understand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen falls onto his back, flumps into the thick white hotel comforter and turns his head away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke wonders what he’s thinking. It’s been a while since he’d seen Echizen hung up over a loss. Was it like that time again? The first time, something world shattering, losing to someone on a court outside of his backyard, not to the sarcastic jestering of his father, goading his son forward with a carrot on a stick—not even to Tezuka, with the intent to ignite him—but to someone in an official match, standing on equal ground, who had given his all and won over Echizen in all fairness. Echizen really didn’t lose, for a long time. Shuusuke held his breath for him. Tezuka didn’t understand—mind set on victory, a near-sighted goal, saw every win as an occasion for celebration, but Shuusuke...worried for Echizen, precisely because he remembers so well the devastating thud in his own stomach when he lost to Shiraishi for the first time. Be it luck, be it misfortune, Echizen found himself balanced precariously at the top. At sixteen, he ruled Japan’s junior tennis world, until he didn’t, and as they say, the higher the ascend, the greater the fall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s been years since their pro careers. After all, after a year of absence, Echizen decided to step foot back into Japan’s tennis world, this time with a realistic goal and healthier mindset about it all. Nowadays, Shuusuke’s used to watching Echizen laugh off his own losses and, smirking, promise his opponent utter humiliation in a rematch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is why he wonders if it has something to do with himself, instead. Wonders if Echizen is taking on Shuusuke’s share of burden for losing. It’s one thing to disappoint yourself...Echizen must think, and that is why Shuusuke felt like he had to come say something, something like “it’s okay, I’m not upset at you” and sit down beside him, like he does now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke grips the edge of the bed softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s been happening?” He says, quiet in the room, “you can tell me if something is stressing you out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen takes a while. “It’s nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Echizen...we’ve been in this room together for a week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen’s hand twitches, the only movement, and Shuusuke finds his eyes drawn to the limp curl of his hand on the bed as he continues.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could tell your mind wasn’t into it when we did the briefing yesterday. In the change room, on the court, I felt the difference, you know. I thought...I thought it might be hard to win. But that doesn’t matter, it doesn’t stop us from trying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke turns around, glances back. Echizen looks pale, his gaze staring dead up at the ceiling, mouth in a grimace. He looks really stressed, even more stressed to be having this conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If there’s anything going on, you can tell me if it helps.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen thinks about it. Then he sucks in a deep breath and sits up again, eyes averted. “Senpai. I’m really sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t be,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Shuusuke’s about to say, when Echizen turns to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But have you ever wanted to have sex with a guy so bad you can’t even hit a ball straight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke’s brain...glitches for a split second. Blacks out. Then the screens flicker back on as if reviving from a power outage, and the face of one person immediately comes to mind. Eyes wide, Shuusuke almost dwells on it...then realizes Echizen’s not really asking about him. Thank god, because he has no idea what to say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Echizen goes on, eyes far away and sighing deeply, “I’ve never felt this way before and I’m really confused right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke leans back, startled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen’s red to the tips of his ears, staring down at the hands gripping his knees. Of all things, this was not what he expected. In the following moments, Shuusuke finds within himself a little bit of frustration, a lot of humor, and all of understanding realizing that Echizen’s poor performance had been the result of...this. He’s willing to name it for what it is. Horniness. A poor excuse, trivial reason at first glance, but Shuusuke has the feeling it’s more than hormones. For anyone, for himself, it’s an identity struggle to have to go through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels many things at once. Sympathy and empathy. He thinks “why is he telling </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Regardless of the reason, Shuusuke feels gratitude for being trusted. Most of all, he can’t help the feeling of </span>
  <em>
    <span>relief</span>
  </em>
  <span> washing across himself to be finding out a colleague is gay like himself, and it’s this thought that keeps him quiet for a while—Shuusuke knows what to say, but he wonders how much he should share about </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a way to relate and help Echizen feel better.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you creeped out?” Echizen asks to break the silence, as a form of damage control. “I’m sorry. I bet it sounds like an excuse, which...it is. So I’m really sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thought makes him want to smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You asked me if I’ve ever been too gay to hit a ball straight.” He laughs, timid yet unabashed at the same time. “Yeah I have, Echizen. All the time.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>4.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma remembers the text that started it all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s 20 years old. He had been horny. He was just having fun sexting with an older girl named Vivi whom he knew from the States when she sprung this on him. “Where are you at?” She had asked. “In my hotel room.” “Are you by yourself?” “My senpai is here.” “Is he pretty?” “Kind of...why?” “How would you like it if he and I fucked you at the same time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma had no words. He had lost his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since then, he hasn’t stopped thinking about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma prides himself on having his own will. He gives himself the freedom to define and express himself by his own ideals, and no one else could tell him who to be. Sexual orientation is a part of it. Ryoma has known he’s not exactly straight for a while now. He’s never been opposed to the idea of being bisexual, and he has, in a vague sense, felt attracted to men before, in some ways even more intensely than he’s been attracted to a woman. But he didn’t know he could be this outright gay. This is different. It’s not the same as the full-bodied nee-sans and their strapons. It’s not the same as their honey English undoing him in his ear, being undone by them. This is Japan. This is Fuji, undeniably a man and another man’s cock he’s been fantasizing about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t help that Fuji has been walking around the room shirtless for a week. It’s summer right now in Australia, in December, 26 degrees outside. Fuji throws open their 23rd floor curtains every morning to feel the sun on his bare skin. Ryoma’s seen him naked head to toe before, but nothing feels as sinful as tracing the ridges on his back, peeking at the triangle of skin on his upperclassman’s chest that his bathrobe never does conceal. Ryoma’s never noticed him in this way until the text fucked him up. Then he couldn’t stop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Senpai...you like men? Do you like women, too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji thinks about it. He seems deep in thought, for a moment that’s altogether too short. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like...I like men. What about you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hearing this, Ryoma is at a loss for words. What about himself? He wants to think about it, but his mind is caught up in the fact that Fuji also isn’t straight. Ryoma’s had a feeling...but to say that would be to judge with no basis. In any case, it’s good enough that Fuji is accepting, an even greater blessing that he happens to know what it’s like. But it’s also a bigger </span>
  <em>
    <span>problem</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Ryoma. Up until now he has just been fantasizing, but now that he has this piece of information, what is he supposed to...</span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> with it? He swallows past the thick lump in his throat, feeling his heart speed up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve thought about it before, but I didn’t think I would actually...like, I’ve never had the urge to have sex with a guy until now. The whole week it’s been…really bothering me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji nods with a look of understanding. “It’s not easy to accept.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma shakes his head. He doesn’t want to be consoled. He doesn’t deserve that, has been a...bad boy, and deserves to be...punished. The thought goes straight to his dick. Ryoma tries hard to ignore it. “I can’t even pretend it’s about that. It’s just...overwhelming lust.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flicker of light dashes across Fuji’s irises. Something playful, something curious. “Is it someone here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Someone at this tournament.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well...yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you want to try? For the first time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma swallows. “Yeah.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji looks at him. “If you’re going to do it...Echizen, make sure you use lots of lube. Don’t get impatient or you’ll hurt him or hurt yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma smirks, raising a brow. “Talking from experience, senpai?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji doesn’t bat an eye at the provocation. “Yes, I am. And If you want help with it, you can talk to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma’s not sure what to feel. Ryoma wasn’t asking for serious advice. He wanted to joke about it all—maybe then it’ll make his problem seem a little less real to himself. He knows how to have sex, Fuji doesn’t have to tell him. A part of him also wants Fuji to know this. Fuji should know that actually Ryoma’s quite talented at sex, so he’s been told. In fact, Ryoma...Ryoma can show him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma feels himself going red at the ears. He’s being an idiot. Getting his hopes up for no reason. It’s enough that the fantasy has wrecked him, he’s suffered the consequences, it’s time to leave the daydreaming behind. Besides, this is Fuji. Fuji is untouchable...or so Ryoma thought. Even if he were to be touchable in theory, someone like Ryoma’s certainly not on his radar. Probably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs resignedly, looking away and mumbling. “It’s...it’s fine. I don’t think it’s going to happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beside him, Fuji laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Fuji waves his hand in good humor, eyes closed in crescents. “It’s just so rare to see you pining, don’t you think? Usually people flock to you, Echizen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma wants to sigh. The air between them has lightened up again. It makes him relax a bit. “You have no idea,” he says, smiling ironically at himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wonder…” Fuji chuckles, a loosely curled hand before his mouth, his thinking pose, “what kind of person could possibly catch Echizen Ryoma’s eyes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma looks at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Breathing in weightlessness, breathing out tension, Ryoma feels something unravel inside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I said it’s you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji’s smile falters. He opens his eyes, sharp cerulean, cutting clear into Ryoma’s own heated gaze. Ryoma feels electricity down his spine, ice chilling the flame in his body. Now he knows. His dirty secret for a week, out in the open. Fuji doesn’t let him breathe, looks into his eyes like he’s seeing past them into his mind. What does he find? Ryoma doesn’t know. Can’t break contact, can’t breathe. Does he see Ryoma’s desire? He must find it in the way Ryoma phrased his answer, a question, a proposal, a dare. Altogether inappropriate, he thinks now, realizing his intention was not to provoke but to apologize. But he needed Fuji to know. In case...if there’s any chance...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji’s expression is unreadable. No repulsion, at least, but no interest, either, as far as Ryoma can read. That’s that, he supposes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nevermind,” Ryoma says, standing up at last. He goes to the table. For what? No idea. To get away from there. From the disappointment. “It’s not your problem,” he says, trying to sound matter of fact, “It’s not like...I’m asking you to do anything about it, I just thought I owed you a thorough explanation for the way I’ve been, especially knowing how important this match was for you, senpai. I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Echizen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma flips through his suitcase on the chair. It’s hard to swallow. “...yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I see your tattoo?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>5.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the interstices of cognizant moments, Shuusuke has fleeting thoughts about Echizen Ryoma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Beyond his own comprehension, something has been set off in him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arousal? No…something in the mind. A kind of illumination. Not a moment of enlightenment, the way it felt when he cried on the court and realized for the first time that the only thing stopping him from winning against Tezuka Kunimitsu was himself. Not a gradual enkindling, the way his love for Irie Kanata was written in the transitory colors of a drawn-out sunrise. This foreign gravity in his gut, churn in his stomach, this is most akin to the feeling of...street lamps flickering on in the night, down a street he wasn’t having a particularly hard time walking along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke drifts in and out of his head, in and out of tangible reality. For example, he’s thinking about this while watching Echizen’s back go stiff: Echizen’s flushed face when Shuusuke comes out of the shower, as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been the one standing in steam for twenty minutes when he’s just sitting on his bed under his blanket; the quiet gasps at night when Echizen thought he was asleep; the gaze he felt on his back when he changed; the balls of tissue that accumulated in their hotel trash, emptied by the staff every morning; Echizen staring intently at his phone, unaware of the half-lidded look and smile stretching across his own face sometimes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quickly, he pieces some things together, and the thought makes him want to laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere along the way of these snapshot moments, Echizen looks back. Shuusuke thinks that something about his wet haired look, the backlighting of their windows, and the expression on him is photograph worthy. Somewhere along these thoughts Shuusuke tells him </span>
  <em>
    <span>kneel on the bed, your back to me</span>
  </em>
  <span>…and Echizen does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke thinks about Echizen Ryoma. Just the boy, the man himself. Head tilted forward as if that could hide his embarrassment. Shoulders trembling imperceptibly. Sturdy bodied, just an inch or two shorter than himself. He’s all grown up now. There’s a sensual presence to him. The tattoo that he carried back from New York signposts his independence and adulthood, bearing an air of </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve done more than you think I have</span>
  </em>
  <span>, provoking and shattering judgment with his attitude. Exuding confidence in his waywardness, yet appears lost when it comes to this part of his identity. It reminds Shuusuke of himself when he was young, except he never had this struggle alone, had been from the very start guided down the path by the hand of someone more experienced and older.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks about that person. Back home, in his corner of the world, what could he be doing right now? Watching TV, baking a cake, reading up on the latest issue of the medical journal? Does he know a thing about the ways Shuusuke has been undone by thoughts of him for the past...he doesn’t know how long? Shuusuke thinks, in the interstices of moments, that he has to be careful, because Kanata would </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> the moment they touched each other again. Theirs is, after all, a physical connection.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Never bound. Never a promise. Never attached to one another—isn’t that right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s why it’s ok if Shuusuke thinks about having sex right now with his colleague, his underclassman.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>6.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen is flushed. Nervous. He slips his heavy bathrobe down his shoulders, unintentionally tantalizing with how slowly he does it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke touches the tattoo, caressing it with the back of his fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where did you get this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A shop in New York.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why a dragon?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was...on the wall…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not too big, not too small...it suits you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did it hurt?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really...s-senpai?” Echizen’s voice trembles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke is close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice drifts from behind him. Leaning down to examine the intricate design, his face is inches from Echizen’s skin. Echizen smells good, smells exactly the same as himself, a thought that does something to Shuusuke’s insides. His body holds still for Shuusuke’s voyeuristic gaze, stiff as a brick. Shuusuke feels something almost sinister well up in himself, a kind of satisfying enjoyment at knowing the exact effect he is having on this person right now. He can turn him on with a word, a breath, a graze. He can make him bend. Echizen is like putty in his hands, and Shuusuke’s body tingles with the power coursing through him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen is not alone. He can feel himself growing hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t dare imagine it was like this, Echizen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He paces back and forth behind him. Echizen has closed his eyes in shame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know what it meant when I felt you staring at me,” Shuusuke leans down to say, hands behind his back. Echizen shudders, speechless. He goes on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were distracted for a good reason, not because you were...too horny for your teammate. That makes me feel...hmm, a little bitter and offended.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, senpai,” Echizen gasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen kneels there, knees apart, the hard-on between his legs tenting his loose bathrobe, evident for all in the room to witness. He kneels there as if waiting. Waiting for more, to be teased, to be scolded. From his profile, his cheeks are pink. Shuusuke thinks the smile forming on his lips is insolent, as if Echizen felt somehow...entitled to a good session of punishment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s not how this works</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks.</span>
  <em>
    <span> That’s not how you beg</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Shuusuke didn’t have a good enough reason to provide what would evidently be entertainment to the boy. If Echizen wanted his service, he would have to learn to ask for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chuckles without humor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine. You’re forgiven.” Shuusuke says flatly, pulling up the back of Echizen’s collar and covering him up again in a swift motion before walking away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen whips around, clutching his bathrobe closed. The desperation in his eyes speaks volumes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke waits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can...why don’t you let me make it up to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something in the young man’s expression changes. Morphs from wide eyed panic to...half-lidded seduction. He looks almost...sure of himself, determined. Shuusuke looks down at the arrogant smirk forming slowly on his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So quick to hide his vulnerability, Echizen is, even though he had been so honest just minutes ago that Shuusuke had felt enough desire to want to fuck him. Pride on the line, Echizen reverts to his snarky self in a fashion Shuusuke finds utterly unadorable. Dishonest. It makes Shuusuke want to break down this facade, makes him want to make Echizen admit how hard his heart is pounding, among a sea of other honest thoughts that must be filling up his mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke thinks it’s annoying, and kind of cute, in a condescending way, that Echizen is boasting he can satisfy him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh...you think you’re good at this now?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thinks, watching Echizen watch him back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just because you’ve touched a couple of girls, made them gasp...</span>
  </em>
  <span> It makes him think about Kanata, all the dirty shit they get themselves into. They’re both...insatiable. Obscene. Perverse. The sex they have breaks Shuusuke’s mind, takes him to heaven, drags him through hell. Kanata is the silence before the beat drop. Kanata is the wildest ride at the amusement park. Kanata is a frisson of thrill and fear. For Shuusuke, Kanata pushes the limits of human experience. God. He wishes he were there, not here. But thinking about Kanata, Kanata, Kanata is hard right now. Absently he wonders if Kanata goes around wrecking other people’s lives like that. Even if Shuusuke is his only canvas for destruction, Kanata is by nature a person who leaves ripples with his steps, charming to so many...looking down, Shuusuke starts to wonder if Kanata could be...could have been seduced by a look like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives Echizen a delicate raise of the brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s cute that you think you can. What are you gonna do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen digs through the bag beside his bed, and presents Shuusuke with a tube of lube.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke laughs. “Is this an offering?” Shuusuke imagines Echizen spreading his legs, laying himself bare on the sacrificial altar. "Or are you asking me to use it on myself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen crawls to the edge of the bed. Kneeling there, he’s just at the height to place his hands on Shuusuke’s shoulders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bold</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Shuusuke thinks. He resists the urge to slap them off, because that would send opposite signals. “No, I’ll make you feel good,” Echizen tilts his head, eyes narrowing, smirk widening. Shuusuke thinks he might lean in to kiss it off, see what happens. He scoffs instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Echizen, you’ve never done this,” he says, despite making no move to stop the hands wandering up and down the slope of his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but...I know a thing or two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure you want to start here?” Shuusuke waves the lube in front of them. “You could just...try with your hand, or mouth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen thinks about it. “Don’t know how. Never done it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It may be true, Shuusuke wouldn’t know, but it’s still a lousy excuse. Shuusuke’s just about had enough of playing around. Echizen’s not taking the bait, dead set on having his ass fucked for the first time by his upperclassman tonight. Somewhere in him, Shuusuke knows he’s lost against himself, and he knows his losing hand is placing the hope that one of them will change their minds on Echizen Ryoma.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he narrows his own eyes back. He’s serious now. Speaks in that half-whispered tone, sultry and deliberate. “You want me...want senpai to fuck you that badly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without a word, Echizen stops moving as if he had been commanded. His eyes go wide, jaw falls slack. “Please…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke thinks about the dictionary of insults he wants to lay onto the boy right now. If this weren’t so haphazard, they could talk about it, turn ons and boundaries. But then again, if it weren’t so haphazard, spontaneous to the moment, Shuusuke doubts this would be happening at all. Too many thoughts on his mind. Too many heavy emotions. Not enough incentive, losing momentum… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not another thought of regret.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls open his belt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...just get on your knees.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>7.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this your first time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen is nude on the bed. He’s on all fours, head hanging between his shoulders at the moment, but he had kept trying to sneak looks at Shuusuke’s own naked body, and Shuusuke had made him put his head down. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t want to lean on a pillow or something?</span>
  </em>
  <span> No, Echizen had said, as if he couldn’t allow himself to get comfortable cuz he’s going somewhere. Shuusuke told him to suit himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anal sex? Or sex with a guy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke raises an eyebrow slowly. “...anal.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. But with a guy, yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke reaches forward, pulls Echizen back to the edge of the bed by his hips. Echizen scoots, wiggling his sides in a way all too innocent for what they’re about to do. Shuusuke knows he’s no longer too young. Shuusuke himself has no right to talk about being too young for these things, but when Echizen looks like this, even his toned body naked beneath him, Shuusuke is reminded that he’s really about to put his dick in his middle school underclassman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know some interesting women,” he comments half-heartedly, uncapping the lube and squeezing a good portion onto his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears Echizen chuckle. “The nee-chans tell me I look good on their strap-ons~”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, he gives his hips a wiggle, right as Shuusuke’s about to lather up his hole. He nearly misses. Shuusuke clicks his tongue. “Stay still.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious, senpai, you can just let me do it. I’ve done it countless times. You can just sit back and enjoy, I’ll give you a good ride.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke’s outstretched fingers falter. “You think you can make it up to me like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen looks up and behind himself now. “Isn’t that what we’re—” One finger enters, pressing past the tight ring of muscle. Echizen wilts. “—ahh...doing...?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe his onee-sans like to see Echizen fuck himself on their strapons, but Shuusuke is not planning to give him a chance to perform. It’s not about how good he can be. Shuusuke has no interest in being given satisfaction, only wants to take it for himself. It’s not good to indulge Echizen in his arrogance. Echizen’s gonna be used, and that’s that. It’s not a talent show, it’s a tutoring session. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’re missing the point, Echizen…” Head tilted, with his other hand splayed on Echizen’s ass, Shuusuke strokes the smooth skin with his thumb as he fingers him slowly. “What kind of punishment would it be if you’re enjoying yourself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a few moments Echizen just moans and moans as Shuusuke stretches him. Does it really feel this good? Shuusuke wonders. Or is something about the set up turning Echizen on? The idea of punishment? The idea of a childhood sin, like some kind of fate coming full circle? Since their first match in the rain, their first meeting...could it be that it’s him? Shuusuke hasn’t thought this far. He wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t made the assumption that Echizen wasn’t the type to be attached. But it’s never good to get careless with someone’s first time, if he himself has any right to speak…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Echizen is so quick to be honest. Shuusuke himself could never be so shameless. Taking this first from someone clearly experienced, someone who knows how to take </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>give, at least in all the ways he’s given permission...Shuusuke can’t deny he’s turned on by the idea. He didn’t want to fuck other people often, but he knows instinctively that Echizen is not a coincidence, is a choice he made somewhere in the marshes of his mind. Echizen would be as good of a fuck as any. Right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you would be a dom...you’ve always been kind of sadistic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke can hear Echizen’s smirk. He finds humor in that, but doesn’t smile. Doesn’t tell Echizen that he’s unfortunately wrong. Echizen only needs to know this side of him, after all. He has no intention to bottom for him, the mere thought makes him wince.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke raises a brow. “Do you want me to lie and tell you I always knew you would be a slutty bottom...?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about his own phrasing makes Shuusuke jolt. His brain is barely there, filters unmanned. They say you absorb the traits and habits of the ones you love. Shuusuke has truly been hanging around Kanata for too long. He can almost hear the “just kidding~” ring in his ear, all mischief and warmth, except out of Shuusuke’s own mouth it’s all snark and condescension. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe Echizen deserves better. Some respect, at the very least. Shuusuke makes it up to him—presses down on a spot...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen gasps, voiced and shaky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please call me that...please you can call me anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke looks down at his bent neck, curved spine, raised ass...listens to his lewd begging. Wants to run his hand down from his neck along the crease of his back, give him a couple of...resounding spanks on the ass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he doesn’t deserve any better. Echizen doesn’t deserve anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll think about it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>8.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen is enjoying it immensely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were making it up to me? How come you’re enjoying yourself so much, hm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke had gone soft earlier in the fingering process. Reluctantly, he let Echizen suck him back to hardness. He had expected Echizen to make an obscene display of the act like girls did so often in porn, rolling their heads and peeking up past their lashes, but Echizen kept his eyes down and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>sucked</span>
  </em>
  <span> like he was trying to taste Shuusuke. Shuusuke thought that was fine. Maybe he had lost his last chance to stop. With curiosity piqued </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>his dick hard, he didn’t have a reason now not to be sticking it into Echizen’s welcoming ass hole, warm and slick and taking him in like it belonged there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not—letting me—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Syllables are fucked out of Echizen staccato.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ungh—Fuji-senpai—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke had been slamming into the backs of Echizen’s thighs for a while, holding onto Echizen’s hips, pulling his body onto his cock. At some point he had gotten on the bed, straddling the back of Echizen’s closed legs, rolling his hips forward now and pushing into his ass between the tight crease. Echizen’s hands are crossed at the wrist behind his back. Shuusuke presses down on them with one hand, truly immobilizing him and not letting him do a thing. With the other hand, he gives Echizen’s ass the occasional slap.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke likes this position. It’s one of his own favorites. Although it’s about time he switches up the pace—not that Echizen cares, moaning like a slut through anything and everything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He teases him for enjoying it way too much, but in truth it’s what keeps Shuusuke’s own dick hard, how turned on Echizen is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke’s cock head slips out. He gets up, flips Echizen onto his back and sticks it back in again. When he looks up, he’s startled to be greeted by Echizen’s dark eyes, pupils blown, eyes half lidded and lashes trembling ever so slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stares at Echizen for a while, folding him back by the backs of his knees, fucking into him, revving up Echizen’s vocal engines again infallibly like dropping a coin into a pinball machine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Senpai...hah...ahh—!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke fucks him in earnest. He puts his arms down by Echizen, his own hair falling past his ears and down the sides of his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders then if he should kiss him. Echizen is kind of cute. But it’s a strange feeling—stirs up his insides briefly when he thinks about it, lost to the sea of physical sensations—not seeing Kanata’s face beneath him, that welcoming smile, awaiting any kind of sweet destruction Shuusuke has in store. The debauched, half open gaze. Different now, no twinkling amber, in its place a hazy green. Shuusuke wonders if Echizen is seeing him, the way he isn’t seeing Echizen. Kanata is always seeing him. Shuusuke knows because his eyes are open enough to reveal the speck of light in its corner, makes Kanata look so animated and alive and focused. He loves that look, fears it at the same time. It’s seductive, too deceptive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lie to me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’d once felt compelled to say, thrusting into Kanata like he is now, his own eyebrows knit and sweat rolling down his cheek. </span>
  <em>
    <span>About what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kanata had asked. Shuusuke didn’t finish the sentence. Not in a million years would he be masochistic enough to ask Kanata to tell him he loves him, but Shuusuke couldn’t bear looking at him anymore so he had closed his eyes— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gaze transfixed instead on the strand of spit pulled between Echizen’s teeth. Echizen’s hot breaths coming out as if he can see them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh what the fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Shuusuke thinks, and he leans down at last, and Echizen arches up for the kiss like it belonged to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuji senpai! Ahn— you feel so good…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Faster, please...harder...ugh...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissing him is like breaking open a dam, Echizen only getting more shameless as Shuusuke’s tongue works him open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least, Shuusuke thinks, the two of them have that in common.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>9.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma had always felt drawn towards Fuji, but in a way that made him want to keep his distance, as if the allure was altogether too great. Over the years, throughout the on and off of seeing Fuji around in the same pro circle, Ryoma had come to understand that Fuji is the Pandora’s box better left unopened. To humanize the concept of “Fuji Shuusuke” takes hard work, and Ryoma was not in the least interested in working towards what he projected to be disappointment. Something about Fuji Shuusuke’s cold, regal beauty felt untouchable—no coincidence that Ryoma finds it so hot to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> touched, right now, in all the right places.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having that piercing gaze on him, focused all on him right now. The soft grunts in his ear. Soft hair tickling his neck. Small gestures of tenderness, kisses pressed to the ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere in his fucked out mind, Ryoma feels ablaze. Now, after a week of lust, the planets have aligned to construct this once in a lifetime moment, and with his reticence gone, Ryoma’s finally grabbing at the heart of the icy flame. Fuji felt warm to the touch in every way, hot mouth, hot palms, hotness pushing into himself, barely inches above him, yet Ryoma felt he hadn’t gotten any closer to the core of this spark, as if marching through a desert towards a receding mirage. That is fine with Ryoma; it turns him on. It makes him wonder briefly if this coolness opens up to warmth for anyone. He has no interest in coaxing it out of him. The dissonance in this apathetically intimate act is magnetic enough. Sinful. It makes Ryoma feel so good. It’s hotter that way. He doesn’t know who Fuji is, even after all these years, and Fuji has no intention of showing him anything more than his dispensable body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, it makes Ryoma wonder if it’s lonely in Fuji’s dishonest world. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe he chases this kind of intimacy instead, Ryoma thinks. To fill the void. Maybe that’s why he’s so skilled at undoing him, Ryoma thinks, and thinks no more, as he surrenders himself to the naked pleasure. Fuji’s so good at fucking him. It’s nothing like a dildo on a harness—Ryoma is obsessed with feeling Fuji’s heat driving into him. The wet slip and slide. The snap of his hips. The occasional question—</span>
  <em>
    <span>you like that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ryoma himself scrambling to translate his euphoria into words, making sure Fuji knew he was right here, paying all the attention he can muster. Fuji is practiced. Ryoma is a little jealous of whoever it is. Ryoma wants to be fucked like this all the time, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The frustration of being restricted makes him even more hard. In idle curiosity, Ryoma wants to see Fuji Shuusuke come undone by his own hands, but he will not complain if it happens this way instead. Himself being used, agency robbed. He tries to rock into Fuji, who meets his hips with resounding slaps. Ryoma loves feeling like a worthless fuck toy. He wants to ask Fuji to call him that—his eyes would start rolling to the back of his head if he did—but he doesn’t want to risk shattering this perfectly ecstatic moment. It’s good enough. Best fuck of his life. All his nerves are on edge. He’s losing his mind, drowning in sensation. It feels so good good good. More. Harder. Moans and moans, toes curling. His cock is leaking pre-cum onto his stomach, rock fucking hard, his prostate being slammed into when Fuji pulls out just enough, every time. Ryoma wants to cum. Ryoma wants to be allowed to cum, please, please, please... </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love it—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me how much you like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love it I love it ungh— ahh— hah...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji presses his thumb into Ryoma’s mouth. Ryoma doesn’t think, just sucks on it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>10.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen’s body folds easily, feels light. He pushes in all the way. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Small like Kanata</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks. He doesn’t want to think about Kanata right now. He focuses on the boy beneath him, the one he’s inside of. An honest mouth, an honest body. Kanata gets like that too, all of these liars reduced to their most honest pleasures. Prides out the window. Kanata has no pride like Echizen though. He was always honest. At least, Shuusuke thinks, about everything except...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke puts a pillow under Echizen’s hips and really plows him. He enjoys this as he would any porno on his own time, as if jerking himself off. He’s getting off partly on the idea that Echizen has been reduced in his mind to nothing but a hole for him to fuck. What else is he good for? What other pleasure is there for Shuusuke to obtain? A question he had asked from the offset, discovering that the answer is unpalatable after all. Shuusuke should have seen this coming. He hated this discovery. He wishes he were a little more present right now, thrusting into Echizen Ryoma panting like a dog for his cock, instead of floating in dissociation. He had wanted to find out that he’s normal after all. That it’s just hormones and convenience all the time that takes him back to that apartment. He wanted to think that anyone would do. That he is not a fool in love, bewitched. Now he’s left with the terrifying realization, the truth he craved to be overturned, which he had always known, that these eight years of time have etched into him forever like the tattoo on Echizen’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was in love with a man. Not the one he is fucking—suddenly Shuusuke has no more reason to be doing this. It doesn’t feel like anything anymore. He could stop at any time, but now he’s just going for Echizen, even though he knows if the prideful young man could feel his pity, he too would want them to stop altogether. He could lie, not to himself anymore, but for Echizen. Just until release. Just a little bit longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke closes his eyes and Irie Kanata flashes across his mind. He wishes he were back home instead. Snowed in in Kanata’s apartment, the heater humming in the background, frost on the windows, his cock buried deep in Kanata’s ass. Kanata’s pretending to be under the spell of some sex potion after a trip to USJ. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck me now Shuusuke help me don’t stop if you don’t fuck me I’m gonna die please I need it I need you.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Is it not enough? Is it so wrong to wish to have this all to himself? No girls on campuses. No office secretaries. No friends of acquaintances at parties. Just the stray kitten he’d picked up at 14, kept around through the gentle passing of seasons, inadvertently groomed into this full fledged adult who no longer knows how not to achingly love him. For a second, Shuusuke feels doomed. No thoughts, can’t take any more. Just wisps of emotions. Only these bodily sensations. The heat of union. Echizen’s waist in his hands. The motions, belonging to something other, barred from the kingdom of his heart or mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The end that he no longer seeks, the conclusion, with dead certainty sinking in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The experiment that he feels too guilty to abandon.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>11.</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma feels it. Something in Fuji has shifted. They are both so close. It’s as if Fuji had finally surrendered to his sadistic nature, driving into Ryoma with a vigor that feels...desperate. Mean. The thought that Fuji is finally letting go for him turns Ryoma on beyond words. The relentless abuse hurts so good. Ryoma’s gonna be so sore the next morning, but all concerns mean nothing to him right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes are wet at the rims. He’s lost all filters to his mouth. He doesn’t know what perverse things he’s babbling, if he’s even coherent. Ryoma is floating. He’s not even being dommed, but he’s certainly hitting that mental space where everything feels safe and nice and warm, embraced by light. That point of calm beyond overwhelmed. He’s lost control of his body, of his expression, of the ability the swallow his spit, so it just rolls down his jaw into his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So close hah ughn unnghhhh gonna cum gonna cum— senpai please se—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Choke me slap me tell me I’m worthless</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ryoma thinks. Fuji doesn’t, just keeps thrusting, eyes down like he’s in his own world. But it’s enough for Ryoma. Ryoma barely touches his cock before he cums again. It’s seconds or minutes or hours before Fuji finally shudders with a moan. He pulls out, releases on Ryoma’s stomach, and Ryoma’s hole is positively twitching for contact, aching and empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Badum, badum. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Badum.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fuji is still holding himself up above him, sweat rolling off him onto Ryoma. Ryoma feels the sheets shift, as if Fuji is grabbing them, clenching his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long before reality returns, gravity pulling Ryoma back down from the heavens.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s flushed. He can feel the heat radiating off himself, so he hides his expression, suddenly afraid of how embarrassing it might be, even though there should be no reason either of them have anything to hide from one another now. Ryoma rides on the tail end of this ecstasy. The singularity of bliss. The adrenaline still hitting hard, curtailed by a gnawing disappointment that this has to come to an end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Fuji decides that is all, truly a clean sever in time. Not a moment wasted in the transition. No cuddling, no kisses, which Ryoma thinks is...fine, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fiiiine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he gets it, this distance, he asked for it himself. But it makes him feel too vulnerable all of a sudden to be baring himself to someone so cold, someone upholding an insurmountable wall. It’s just not fair. To not see, but be seen, even after they’ve been acquainted so intimately. Ryoma consoles himself with the thought that Fuji must be like this with everyone, otherwise his pride would really feel a little hurt. He doesn’t want to think about it. For now, he just wants to enjoy this perfect moment, make it last a little longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Has sex always felt like this? No. Should sex always feel like this? ...he was doomed. Would anyone be able to dick him as good as his senpai ever again? Without confirmation, somewhere in Ryoma knew this would be the first and last Fuji ever fucked him. After all, it seems, Fuji belongs to somebody. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ryoma thinks about how much he doesn’t care that Fuji might be cheating, a surge of pleasure, even, from his moral deviance. That’s Fuji’s own problem. And besides, he would take the best sex of his life any day. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>12.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke looks down at Echizen covering his face, like that means anything now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t take too long for him to come back to himself. After all, it’s been over for him for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallows thickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unclenches his hands...when had they clenched? Gets up off Echizen. Absolutely does not want to be touched right now, doesn’t matter how cruel that might seem, sits down against the headboard beside Echizen’s body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not awful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he decides. It was not an awful time, even though he wishes none of it had happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What washes over him now is a wave of fondness for Echizen. Nothing between them will have changed, he’s sure, yet nothing will be the same again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you?” He asks, feeling like he should.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen lifts his free hand in a gesture that means nothing, and it drops back down onto the bed with exhaustion. A match on the court, and now another encounter, not quite so long but equally intense. Shuusuke stares at his own cum on Echizen’s stomach and has the urge to wipe it off for him. Destroying the evidence, perhaps. Or maybe it comes from a place of caring, if he’s capable of at least that right now, in the heavy space of his mind, of wanting to advise Echizen to at least take a shower before crashing into the unconscious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sore?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You took it pretty well for your first time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re all prodigies at </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Echizen jests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke scoffs. The joke barely gets him. The snark is back, of course. Shuusuke suddenly feels like Echizen is 18, de-aged two years more than the two year gap he already palpably feels between them. He wonders if Echizen had always boasted about his experience. If he had been 18 with his tattoo, Shuusuke doesn’t think he would have fucked him. There would have been no appeal, it wouldn’t have meant anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Echizen acting all worldly now doesn’t cheapen his honesty from earlier. Besides, he himself isn’t so much of an expert on sex either. As for people, he can hardly count one and a half fingers. Yet, it has been eight years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke gets off the bed before he starts thinking about it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels so heavy. He locks himself in the bathroom, astonished to discover that he feels the urge to cry the way he hasn’t in a long, long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels like hitting the end of an alleyway. Staring blankly at the wall ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels like...eating his mother’s homemade curry for a decade and thinking nothing else can compare. How can it? It’s not in the farm fresh veggies. It’s not in the stewing time, not the grated apple, not the secret spices. How can anything else compare—who can replicate the taste of love? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuusuke had known this. Yet somehow he had refused to accept the one-sided reality of it all. Thought he could defy the truth by forcibly taking the freedom Kanata always gave him, none of which he ever wanted himself, none of which, he knows now, he ever wants again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he wants...Kanata...everything he wants...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time in years, it’s suddenly not okay again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slides down the bathroom door, feeling his bottom hit the cold floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ripped out of his complacent daze, Shuusuke feels the doom set in.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a follow up comic that happens a few years in the future.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>